


overpopulation

by smuttytaelien



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Dancer Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentioned Hwang Hyunjin, Mentioned Yang Jeongin | I.N, Minor Bang Chan/Kim Woojin, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttytaelien/pseuds/smuttytaelien
Summary: when a person turns eighteen, a color will appear on their hand. if its green, you live, if its red, you die. minho got green, but jisung...jisung got red.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	1. chapter 1; implants

When Minho was two years old, the government implemented a program to fix the issue of overpopulation on Earth. The original tests were run in the United States, far away from Minho and his family of three. 

The tests proved successful, and it wasn't long before multiple countries followed suit, Korea included. Any child under the age of eighteen was required to have an implant monitoring their age, weight, and other factors. Each chip was equipped with a small poison capsule that would leak if by chance the child was awarded a red dot on their eighteenth birthday. The death was quick but painful, and completely nonpreventable. The government selected people at random, but aimed to kill off the citizens they deemed as "lesser class". Doctors, lawyers, and government workers were more likely to survive than a convenience store worker. 

Minho was truly lucky. His siblings had all escaped the killings, and his parents had been far too old when the law was implemented. He wasn't anything remarkable, just a simple college student hoping to major in dance. Jisung, however, was so very special. Minho met Jisung during his senior year in high school. He found the cute sophomore lost and wandering in the hallways and felt obligated to help him. The assistance quickly bloomed into flirtatious comments and too-close-to-be-platonic touching. 

The age gap seemed like a minor inconvenience to the determined Minho, but Jisung's lawyer parents threw a fit when they met their son's senior boyfriend. They assured the couple that for legal reasons they couldn't support it, but Minho saw the fear of judgment in their actions. It wouldn't have mattered if he was an older woman as long as Jisung's relationship didn't ruin their reputation. Despite their hesitance, Minho and Jisung stayed together, and two years later, Minho was proud to call Jisung the love of his life. 

Minho had a green dot, his entire family intact, and Han Jisung as a boyfriend. Even with the occasional stress that came with college, he was thriving. 

"Sungie?" He called out after he threw his dance bag on his apartment floor. Ballet kicked his ass most days and that day was no exception. He wanted nothing more than to rest his legs and snuggle with his favorite person in the world. 

"Kitchen!" Was the reply. Minho smiled, lips curling into a flawless feline grin. His thighs shook and his calves screamed at him to stop using them, but he ignored his body's protests to skip to his darling boyfriend. 

"Hi, kitten," he cooed, ruffling the teenager's blue hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to Jisung's temple, knowing full well how much he loved it. 

"Hey, Min, still hate ballet?" Jisung chuckled and shook his head. 

Minho groaned, slumping into the chair beside Jisung, "with all of my heart. It's beautiful, really, all the spins and shit, but it's so painful."

"Beauty is pain," Jisung replied absentmindedly. Minho could tell from the way his tongue prodded at the inside of his chubby cheeks that he was laser-focused on the work in front of him. And Jisung was hardly focused, constantly bouncing around like a broken trampoline. 

"English?" Minho questioned. Jisung nodded, uncapping his highlighter and coloring over a word in his book. 

"What are you guys reading?" Minho stretched his legs out and sighed at the pleasant burn. The fridge felt miles away at that moment, and he decided ice wouldn't even be worth the walk. 

"I'm analyzing To Kill A Mockingbird." Jisung scribbled down a note in the margin. 

"Didn't you read that in like, eighth grade?" Minho asked, vaguely recalling the story every English 1 student was required to read. 

"We have an individual project. Everyone chooses a book they read when they were younger and we have to see what we may have missed. It's kind of interesting. Plus, I think it's relevant now."

Minho cracked his neck and rolled his ankles, the popping sounding much more violent than he intended. 

"I mean racism never really went away." 

Jisung waved away his comment, "True, yeah, but I'm talking about that." He pointed to the green dot staining Minho's tan skin. 

"Sungie, are you still worried about that?" 

The teenager didn't respond. Minho closed his book and gently pried the pen from his fingers, tilting Jisung's chin towards him. 

"I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth, my love. If you get red, I will go with you when the time comes." 

Jisung bit his lip and nodded. Minho grinned and kissed his pout away softly. 

"How could they ever kill such a beautiful person, anyway. They'd be crazy." 

Jisung nuzzled further into the hand cupping his face, cheeks aflame.

"I love you so much," Jisung whispered. The sincerity in his eyes almost made Minho cry. 

"I love you so much more, kitten." He held Jisung's hand and rubbed his fingers along his knuckles tenderly. Occasionally, Jisung's promise ring tapped against his nails. He lifted their intertwined hands, both clad with matching rings and spoke into the saddened silence. 

"Til death do we part, mi amor." 

| 2,880 : 57 : 12 |


	2. chapter 2; loss

When Jisung got a phone call in the middle of his English lecture, he completely blew it off as another scammer trying to get him to purchase insurance for his nonexistent car. He didn't recognize the number and with an apologetic smile to his annoyed English professor, he threw his phone back to the bottom of his bookbag. 

It wasn't until he left his final class of the day (Mondays, he decided, hated him) that he checked his phone. The number left a voicemail in his almost empty inbox, and he couldn't ignore his curiosity. He fished around for his earbuds in his cluttered jacket pocket and found them with a triumphant smile. The audio began with a sniffle and a cough. 

"Hi, Sungie." 

Jisung recognized that voice faster than he recognized his own face. 

"I know this is weird, because, ya know, this isn't my number." Minho laughed, but it quickly transformed into a trembling sigh. "I'm at the hospital right now with Channie. Woojin isn't doing too good." 

Jisung froze in his spot. His classmates flittered around him in the hallways, smiling, unaware, most without a death dot on their tanned hands. Woojin had been friends with Minho since he began college, immediately adopting the freshmen as his own. When Minho learned that Woojin had been hiding his red dot under mountains of concealer, he was heartbroken. The thing about these peculiar dots that made them so dangerous was their unpredictably. The person with said dot obliviously lived life, never knowing when they would die. It could be the minute they turn eighteen, maybe when they're thirty. The government was random with their choosing and their timing. 

Jisung despised them. 

"So, anyway," Minho inhaled shakily. "I really need you here, Jisung. Please come, we're at Severance Hospital. Call me back so I can meet you in the lobby." 

The audio grew silent, and Jisung checked to see if it was over, but there were still twenty seconds left. 

"I love you so much," Minho's soft cry rang through his speakers like a bullet. God, when Minho cried, Jisung's whole body ached. 

He quickly hailed a taxi and practically screamed the address in the poor man's face. His job at the pet store would have to wait; his boyfriend needed him more. 

The cab entered the parking lot, and Jisung jumped from the backseat, scanning his taxi app on the way out. The nurses were startled by him slamming into the receptionist deck, some giving him confused grimaces. 

"Hi, I need to know what room Kim Woojin is in." 

The receptionist tapped away at her computer, seemingly to answer the anxious teen's question when Minho's beautiful voice caught his attention. 

"Jisung!" 

"Oh my god, Minho, are you okay?" Jisung grabbed Minho's (his) sweater and pulled the man into his arms. 

"Sungie, I'm not the one you should be worried about." Minho cracked a small grin, but his eyes were red and puffy, obviously from crying. 

Jisung relaxed his tense shoulders and brushed Minho's bangs away from his eyes. "I'll always worry about you." 

Minho leaned closer to gently peck Jisung's heart-shaped lips and intertwined their fingers. 

"C'mon, let's go see them." 

The ride in the elevator was filled with awkward tension on Jisung's behalf. He fidgeted with his hands, tapped his foot, bit his lip. Personally, he had never seen the effects of the red dot on a person. His own parents were immune and his siblings were all younger than him. 

Minho knocked on the closed hospital door softly so as not to disturb other patients, and walked in after hearing Chan's "Jesus Minho, you don't have to knock". Jisung disagreed, they definitely had to knock. The couple had walked in on Chan and Woojin far too many times during their relationship. 

God, Jisung hadn't even thought of how Chan would feel. He couldn't imagine losing Minho, and when he did it left a numb pain behind. 

"Aw, Channie, you know damn well we have to knock," Minho cooed teasingly. Jisung could see Chan holding hands with Woojin, but couldn't see the oldest man's face. Minho took off his coat and gestured for Jisung to do the same, a sure tell sign that they would be staying at least overnight. 

"Is that Jisung?" Woojin asked from behind the curtain. His voice made Jisung cringe; it was gravelly and raw. Each syllable scratched his throat with their spiny claws. 

"Hi, Woojin," Jisung peeked from behind the curtain and hesitantly approached his friend. Red tint surrounded his lips, and every inhale made his chest shudder. It broke Jisung.

"How are you?" 

It was a stupid question, and looking back on it, he'd admit there was an obvious answer, but he panicked. What do you say to someone who's dying? 

Woojin wheezed out what Jisung believed was a laugh. "Jisung, just say it. I already know. I knew the day I got this fucking circle." 

Chan's easygoing smiled slipped from his face, and his hand trembled in Woojin's. 

"Chan, please don't cry again." Woojin reached over to gently pat Chan's hair and brush his finger along Chan's fluttering eyelids. Jisung glanced around the room, suddenly aware of his boyfriend's absence. The light under the bathroom door was on, however, and Jisung joined Minho in the secluded area. 

"Minho? What's wrong?" Jisung rushed to his boyfriend's side, rubbing his tummy softly. Tears dripped down Minho's flawless cheeks and across his shaking hands. Jisung saw Minho cry the day he broke his leg before a dance recital, he watched him cry during Frozen 2 and when his cat died, but this, this was something completely different. 

"It's all real now, you know? I tell you all the time, don't worry, Sungie, it'll be alright, I'll always be with you, but how the hell am I supposed to know? I've never done this before. I've never watched someone die from this goddamn program." Minho huffed and violently wiped at his overflowing eyes. He caught Jisung's concerned gaze in the mirror and held it. "I could lose you, Jisung. No, no, I might lose you. That's fucking terrifying." 

Jisung didn't know what to say. Minho seemed to understand that, because he experimentally smiled at himself in the mirror (checking for sincerity, Jisung assumed), and left the bathroom. 

"Channie," Jisung heard him whine, followed by a thud and the bang of the hospital chairs. Chan cursed about the weight and the two began to mess around. Jisung was frozen, staring at himself in the mirror. His birthday wasn't for another month or two, but already he felt the dread. As awful as it sounded, he didn't want to be Woojin. He didn't want to die and be okay with it. He wanted to fight it and live with his boyfriend and his two cats without fear of dying. 

"Sungie, come here," Woojin called. Jisung snapped out of his daze and dashed to Woojin's side. 

"Yes? Do you need anything?" 

Woojin gently tugged on Jisung's wrist, and the teenager took the hint. He carefully crawled into Woojin's open arms, avoiding the IV's and heart rate monitors. 

"I need you to look," Woojin whispered, pointing subtly to Chan and Minho. Jisung peeked over his shoulder and saw the two men smiling and laughing, Chan with a spazzing Minho tucked under his arm. "I'm not willingly leaving this behind, Sung." 

Jisungs eyes popped open, "Wait, how did you-" 

"I know you, and I think you should know this anyway. No matter what color you get, Minho will love you. He will give you everything you're wishing for, and you will die, slowly and painfully, knowing that you spent your life with the best man in the world." 

Jisung sighed and curled further into Woojin's chest. 

"I love you, Woojin." 

And Jisung fell asleep. He was unaware that only an hour later, he would wake up after being pushed off of Woojin's still chest and into his boyfriends' arms. He was unaware that Chan would try and take his life by jumping from the hospital roof and fail. He was unaware that Minho made a decision that would eventually kill him after that night. 

He was warm and happy, dreaming of two cats and the love of his life. 

| 1,440 : 23 : 45 |


	3. chapter 3; depression

Depression ran in Minho's family. His mother had a bad case of postpartum depression, his father had spent half a year in a psych ward when he was a teenager, and now Minho felt it. 

After Woojin's death, he had only left his apartment once, and that was for a doctor's appointment where they increased the dosage of his depression medication. His grades still hovered just above average, despite his lack of attendance in class. His teachers sent curious emails about his uncommon absence, some mad and others concerned. Jisung, personally, was irritated with Minho's behavior. He understood mental disorders well, having severe anxiety himself, and he knew that getting out could significantly help. 

"Minho?" Jisung knocked lightly on their bedroom door. "Come on, don't make me sing Frozen to you." Minho normally would have laughed at that, maybe even belted out his own rendition of "Into the Unknown". Instead, he got an annoyed grunt.

Jisung leaned his forehead against the cool door and scrunched his nose to try and stop the grief flooding over him. Because while Minho grieved over Woojin, he unintentionally left Jisung behind 

He sobbed loudly, lower lip quivering, before slipping a hand over his mouth and sliding to the floor. Jisung tried his best to stay quiet, going so far as to bite his fingers, but Minho already heard him. The man padded over to the door with his blanket thrown over his shoulders. Maybe food wouldn't coax him from his depressing cave, but Jisung's cries would certainly work wonders. His own frustration with the nosy boy vanished with the simple sound coming from the other side of the door. God, he was so in love. And that was what made his decision all the more painful. 

He opened the door and draped his weak body over his boyfriend's curved back. Jisung had on one of Minho's bigger dance hoodies; the decals of his name and number on the back scratched Minho's uncovered legs. He refused to move. 

"Oh, Sungie, baby. What's wrong?" Minho asked, brushing his nose along Jisung's wet cheek. Jisung blabbered for a second, tongue flailing and tears cascading.

"You're sad," he settled for. Sad didn't even begin to describe the sheer numbness in Minho's heart, the overwhelming thoughts in his mind, but Jisung knew from experience that mentioning Minho's depression typically led to an argument. He hadn't had a proper conversation with Minho in nearly a week, and he refused to let his own stubbornness push his boyfriend away for the second time. "I know Woojin's death really fucked you up, but," Jisung turned to stare at Minho's unfamiliar features. "I still need you. I need you to tell me how much you love my stupid stomach and my dumb cheeks. I need you to hug me when I'm stressed out about the death dot or finals."

Minho looked so incredibly guilty, but Jisung didn't stop. He couldn't stop even if he tried. Jisung wasn't good with emotions, conveying them, showing them, reading other peoples. Words, however, he was amazing with, and that was all he had to battle Minho's unrelenting demons. 

"Woojin is gone. He's dead, and I'm sorry you lost someone you loved. He was my friend too, you know? I feel it, too. I see his pictures and I could cry. I remember the way I fell from him, the steadiness of his chest before he died. But just because he's gone doesn't mean we have to be. We can be happy, sad, mad, I don't fucking know, horny? He won't be mad. In fact, he'd probably tell us to get our shit together. He'd tell you to go back to school, to dance, to breathe."

Minho tightened his grip on Jisung and sighed into his neck. The warm air that tickled Jisung's ear was a reminder for both that they were still living, the world was still turning. 

"I'm so sorry, Jisung."

The teenager wanted to reassure his boyfriend, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't accept the apology, as much as it pained him to ignore Minho's shaky breathing and white knuckles. Jisung smiled empathetically and pulled Minho's face to gently peck his chapped lips. 

"I know you are," Jisung whispered softly. He stood up and patted Minho's fluffy hair. "Now go get dressed so we can bribe Chan with cuddles and chicken."

(Chan didn't want to leave his room either, but was more than happy to stuff his face with chicken and cry in his best friends arms). 

| 336 : 14 : 19 |


	4. chapter 4; ruby red

The day of Jisung's birthday arrived and Minho was a shaking mess. Despite having reassured his boyfriend about this terrifying day the past three months, he couldn't contain his own nerves. Jisung couldn't end up like Woojin, he would never allow it. 

"Sungie, did you put the cake on the table?" Minho asked as he dried his hair off with a My Little Pony towel. His sweatpants hung loosely around his waist, his boxers peeking above the gray fabric playfully. He wasn't a fan of shirts directly after a shower, mainly because of the way it would stick to his damp skin like a pesky mosquito. 

He furrowed his brow when he didn't get a response from his usually loud boyfriend. He quickly discarded the towel on the bathroom floor (Jisung would yell at him later for it) and walked to the living room. 

"Baby?" 

"Yes, honey?" A high-pitched voice answered, clearly trying to imitate Jisung. 

"What the fuck!" Minho yelled when he noticed the seven other boys sitting around his living room. 

"Damn, Minho, looking sexy," Felix wolf-whistled, winking in Minho's direction. Jisung sat on the couch in between Chan and Hyunjin with a scowl on his pretty face. 

Unfortunately for Minho, the only open space was on the loveseat next to Felix, who was drooling over his body. Of course, logically, Minho should have put on a shirt, but with the jealous way Jisung glared at Felix, he really didn't want too. He sat down next to the freckled boy and leaned back into the seat cushion. Felix stared in awe at his abs, having never seen Minho without a shirt before. Sure, he had seen Minho sweaty tons of times, and it really was so undeniably hot, but without a shirt? Oh god, Changbin might need to hold him back. 

Felix poked Minho's stomach childishly, laughing as the muscles contracted from the ticklish feeling. 

"Hey! I wanna feel, too!" Hyunjin protested. His plea was soon followed by several others, and before he could even blink, Minho was crowded by four touchy boys. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hung back, attempting to hide their amusement, but failing miserably. The hands placed across his exposed torso made Minho shiver and cross his arms over his chest. 

When Jisung noticed Felix start to tease Minho for Mario underwear, snapping the band back against Minho's skin, he seethed. He wiggled his way through his friends and crawled into Minho's lap, covering the man's chest with his body. He slapped Felix's hand away and wrapped his arms around Minho's neck. 

"Aw, little Sungie is jealous," Felix cooed. 

"Shut up and get away from him," Jisung hissed, pecking Minho's cheek. 

Minho chuckled and pulled Jisung into a comfy hug. "Happy Birthday, cutie."

"Thanks, Min. Now please go put on a shirt." Jisung smacked his boyfriend's chest and stood up so he could leave. 

"Fine." Minho kissed Jisung's lips softly and left the room, Felix hitting his butt on the way out. Minho heard Jisung's scream and then Felix's yelp before he shook his head, smiling, and changed into proper attire. 

When the party finally came to end, everyone with bellies full of cake and this weird pasta concoction Chan made, Jisung was a crying mess. Each of his friends wished him a happy birthday one last time and gave him their reassurance. Felix left with Changbin after throwing a flirty gaze in Minho's direction (to which Jisung almost strangled him again). 

"Sungie, you know what that means," Minho purred, lips taunting Jisung with every breathy syllable spoken against his sensitive neck. Minho's hands rubbed down Jisung's sides and across the curve of his back, before spinning Jisung to face him. 

"What does it mean?" Jisung asked innocently. He knew damn well what it meant, having waited for the day he turned eighteen since he started dating Minho. 

"Oh, kitten." Minho clicked his tongue disapprovingly and leaned in to bite the shell of Jisung's pierced ear. "I'm going to make you scream." He whispered. 

And scream Jisung did. 

"Jesus, Minho. How the hell am I supposed to walk around my school looking like I got mauled?" Jisung prodded gently at the dark hickeys littering his neck and chest, some even forming on the insides of his thighs. 

"Happily. Maybe you can even brag about your hot older boyfriend." Minho winked and pulled a shirt over his stained torso.

"Ew, at least clean it off." Jisung scrunched his nose in disgust and wiped the sticky substance off of his boyfriend's stomach. Minho couldn't keep the smile off of his swollen lips, and Jisung loved the look on him. 

"You're so beautiful, Min." 

Minho's eyes twinkled with fondness. "Likewise, mi amor." 

The sincere moment was broken by Jisung's phone timer that was set to go off at 11:30 PM. Minho's smile faltered, Jisung noticed, but he tried to play it off naturally. 

"Minho, no matter what, I'll be okay," Jisung paused to stare into Minho's conflicted eyes. "I'll be okay." 

"Yeah, but, I won't. That's why you're going to live because I need you to live and the system can't kill both of us." Minho could barely see Jisung through the sheen of tears that covered his eyes like a fog. 

"Minho, I-" 

"We have thirty minutes, let's not think about it for now, okay?" 

Jisung nodded, although he wanted to say more. Minho grabbed his hand and sat him on the bed. 

"Hang on, I haven't given you my present yet," Minho said, rummaging around the room for where he hid the pink bag.

Jisung scoffed. "Min, this has already been the best birthday ever." 

"Well, it's about to get better. Let me look in the kitchen real quick." 

While Minho left to find his present, Jisung checked his phone. He had quite a few text messages from his more distant relatives and a few from his mother. Most wished him a happy birthday, followed by the occasional "we need to see each other soon!" (No they didn't, Jisung thought).

His mother's texts caught him off guard, however. The strained relationship between them hadn't allowed for much talking, but her texts seemed genuinely concerned for him, telling him that she would be there for him if need be and she hoped he never had to reach the same fate as his friend. He glanced at the clock on his phone and cringed. 11:45 PM. 

"Aha!" Minho cheered, running into the room. "I found it." 

Jisung took the bag from his hands and dumped out the contents inside. It was a simple book, but when Jisung flipped it over, he realized it was his favorite book. Not only was it his favorite book, but it was also signed. 

"How did you get this?" Jisung smiled and flipped through the worn pages. "She literally died." 

"I have my ways, baby." 

Minho sat down next to him and brushed his bangs away from his smiling face. 

"I love you so much!" Jisung squealed, throwing himself into Minho's arms. He spent the next fifteen minutes tucked into Minho's chest while reading To Kill A Mockingbird aloud. 

And when the clock struck twelve, and he noticed the ruby red stain from the corner of his eye, he didn't stop reading. The tears flowed with his words and Minho's own sobs. 

"Suddenly she spoke," Jisung read with his voice and hands shaking. “'Don’t fret, Jem. Things are never as bad as they seem.'”

| 0 : 0 : 0 |


	5. chapter 5; liar

"Good morning, angel," Minho cooed, leaning over the bed to give Jisung's swollen face a peck. "I have to go to dance, but I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" Jisung nodded and Minho left. 

When he heard the lock click into place, he viciously scrubbed at the marking on his hand until the skin trapping it turned the same vibrant red. His tears had long since run out, but the soundless trembling of his lips was uncontrollable. He hurriedly left the bed and rummaged through his bathroom cabinet. The orange bottle was brighter than a toxic frog but tasted oh-so-good when the fake serotonin trickled into his brain. He realized with a quiet gasp that none of his friends were informed of his color and were probably anxiously waiting to hear from him. He located his phone (it was under the bed) and opened his chat with Hyunjin and Felix. Their last talk was the day before when they were all drooling over his boyfriend. He giggled as he read over the messages and typed a short greeting. 

He got replies from both teenagers almost immediately, asking about the outcome of his birthday. He told them about the dot, and they booed. With a shy smile, he elaborated further, telling them about his night with Minho.

hyunjean: imma tease the hell out of him when I see him at dance later

feliz: bro, same, he'll never live it down 

Jisung reread the messages and bit his lip. 

sungie: what time does dance start today? 

hyunjean: uhhh, 7pm I think? 

hyunjean: why? did Minho forget again? 

Jisung scoffed, but typed back a simple "yeah, sorry". The conversation dulled and Jisung switched off his phone.

"He's lying to me," Jisung mumbled, flopping onto the couch. "Where the hell is he going?"

The process continued steadily for a week. Minho would wake him up with a soft kiss and a "good morning, angel". Jisung would smile and wave him goodbye, feigning innocence, before gossiping with Felix and Hyunjin, who never had dance when Minho left. 

His first assumption was that Minho detested him for his status, hoping that separating himself from Jisung would save himself the heartbreak when his boyfriend died of the same poison that seeped into Woojin's harmless brain.  
But by the end of the week, Jisung came to the heartbreaking conclusion that Minho's lies were either a result of cheating or not loving Jisung anymore. 

Jisung's antidepressants gradually declined in quantity, along with whatever confidence he harbored from Minho's convincing compliments. He drowned himself in his schoolwork, going so far as to ask the teacher for extra assignments just to occupy his mind with something other than whatever the fuck his supposed boyfriend was doing. Minho never mentioned another partner, he never smelled like anything other than the stupid candles he liked lighting before he left, and the fondness in his eyes never even flickered. But Jisung couldn't help it. His trust in Minho was fading like the lit candle sitting on his kitchen table.

When Minho came home shortly after 9 for the sixth time that week, greeting Jisung with a cute smile, the flame blinked and disappeared, rising into the air as suffocating smoke. 

"Hey, Sungie," Minho leaned in for his nightly kiss, but Jisung pushed him away. That was surprising for both of them. Even though they had argued over the years plenty of times, neither laid hands on the other, not even playfully. 

"Jisung, what's wrong?" Minho dropped his duffel bag on the floor to give his anxious boyfriend his full attention. Jisung noticed the action and was tempted to search, just to see if there was any evidence of his assumptions in the smelly bag, but resisted. 

"I don't know Minho. Maybe you can tell me what's wrong because I've been trying for days to figure it out." The bite Minho expected to hear in Jisung's tone was nothing but a pitiful whimper, yet managed to stab his heart deeper.

"We're happy, right? Or we were, right? It wasn't just me being a delusional, insecure bitch, was it?" Jisung pleaded, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his baggy t-shirt. "You loved me once, didn't you?" 

The teenager lifted his tilted head to greet Minho's shaking pupils. 

"When did you stop?" His voice wavered, and his eyes screwed shut from the effort it took to control his tears, but his question was certain. 

"When did I..." Minho blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the full message hidden in Jisung's question. "Jisung, what? I didn't stop. Are you crazy?" Minho couldn't help but be a bit offended. "Why would you even say that? Jesus Christ." Minho cursed, turning his back on Jisung and slamming the door to their room. 

Jisung watched him go. This was one situation that Minho would have to fix on his own. He sat down on the spotless kitchen floor with his legs stretched in front of him. He lost a lot of weight, he noticed. His thighs thinned out considerably, his already tiny waist following suit. He placed his hands on his stomach and rubbed the indent of his ribcage, feeling each divot on the pads of his fingers. Even from his angle, he could see his fate staring back at him, red, bright, and terrifying. 

"Maybe if you take me now, he'll say he loved me," Jisung whispered to the emotionless color. 

"Don't say that shit," Minho growled from where he leaned against the doorway. With quick steps, he grabbed Jisung collar and pulled him from the floor, slamming him against the counter hard enough for him to feel the tingling in his pelvic bone. "You're not fucking going anywhere."

Jisung grabbed at the hands on his shirt, tried to pry open the fist constraining him. 

"Han Jisung, you are the love of my life, as cliche as it is." The grip loosened, and the sheer terror in Minho's starry eyes went with it. "If this system didn't exist, I'd marry the hell out of you. I'd get down on one knee, preferably not after dance class, open up a little ring box worth more than our whole apartment, and make you mine for the rest of our lives. But I can't do that, because this," he tapped the back of Jisung's hand, "is in our way. just don't ever, ever, doubt my love for you." 

Jisung scanned Minho's face, from his thin lips to the bags hanging ominously beneath his eyes. He traced the stress lines in his forehead and crossed over the freckle on his nose. Jisung's hands slid into the familiar junction where Minho's usually painted neck met his shoulder and pressed his lips against the others. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Oh, Sungie, you don't have to be sorry." 

Jisung sighed quietly and brushed down Minho's straying bangs. 

"Can I just ask one thing?" 

Minho nodded. 

"Where have you been going all week?" 

Minho chuckled, but it didn't sound like he was in any way amused. The older man patted him on the head and evaded his question by escaping to their bedroom. When Jisung finally joined him, Minho was snuggled under the covers, an expecting smirk on his face. Jisung rolled his eyes but joined his boyfriend under the covers. 

"I love you," Minho whispered. 

Jisung turned his head to stare into Minho's droopy eyes with a blinding smile. 

"I love you too." 

With Minho's feelings at ease, he fell into a peaceful sleep, but Jisung couldn't will his mind to stop buzzing. It fluttered from Minho's avoidance, to how sad his laugh was, to how angry he was faster than Jisung could overthink. 

He raised his hand above his head to stare at the red. He could hardly see in the dark room, but he didn't need too. Every divot, every line etched into his skin was familiar to him. Jisung glanced at Minho's hand laying lifeless on the blanket and grabbed it softly. The colors were not conspicuously different without the lights help, but he could see how dark the red was in contrast to Minho's green. 

He hadn't realized just how long his mind kept him awake until the cat clock in their living room meowed softly. When he stared back at their intertwined hands, his heart stopped and his breathing stuttered.

He figured out why Minho had been so distant the past week. 

The colors switched. 

| 3,512 : 25 : 44 |


	6. chapter 6; reverse

Jisung shook the sleeping body next to him until Minho's feline eyes shot open. Minho turned onto his side to face his frantic boyfriend, noting the shaking of his hands and his wide eyes.

"Jisung, what the hell?" He groaned groggily. 

Jisung rocked Minho until the man was fully conscious. "What did you do, Minho? Tell me now. Why did it switch?" Jisung demanded an answer, practically forcing Minho into a seated position. Minho rubbed the sleep from his eyes and flicked on the lamp to reveal a bewildered Jisung. 

"Switch? Jisung, I don't-" The recognition flooded Minho's hazy senses and he visibly startled. He glanced incredulously between their hands. "Oh my god, it worked."

Jisung shook his head in confusion. "What worked? I don't understand, Minho, please," He pleaded with his silent boyfriend, desperation leaking from his lips. 

Minho took Jisung's hand and smiled. "Don't you get it? You get to live now, Sungie."

Jisung's head continued its rapid refusal, and he covered his ears to muffle Minho's words. His legs pressed uncomfortably against his aching chest due to his protective stance, but he welcomed the pain. Minho's hands tried to infiltrate his emotional shield, one succeeding and slipping into Jisung's soft hair. 

"Babe? Why aren't you happy?" Minho asked cautiously. Jisung slapped his hand away with a scowl. Minho's love for him balked his acceptance. 

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go!" he screamed, voice piercing the tranquil silence of the night. Minho winced at his outburst but was quick to reach over and pull Jisung's fuming body into his. 

"I wasn't supposed to ever miss you." Jisung hiccuped, deflating in his lover's arm. 

"Oh, Sungie." Minho brushed his fingers soothingly through Jisung's hair. The touch nearly put his frustrations at ease, until Minho added onto his statement. "I'm just leaving a little sooner. It'll be okay." 

"A little sooner?" Jisung jeered. "Minho, I want to marry you one day. I want to adopt a stupid little cat and live in a house near our jobs. I want you to come home and love me. 'A little sooner' ruins everything." 

Minho had no adequate response to appease his distraught boyfriend, and he figured he never would find the right words to dispel the harshness of the situation. So he relied on the warmth of his body to blanket Jisung and his fears, and eventually, the teenager ceased his cries. 

Jisung wiped the runny snot from his red-tinted nose and sniffled. 

"What do I do now?" He asked. "Do I just wait for you to die?" He glanced up at Minho, the older already staring at him with a concerned fondness. 

"Why wait for me to die when we can live? Sungie, let's go crazy. Let's do whatever the fuck we want whenever the fuck we want." Minho gently pushed Jisung off of his heaving chest and stood up. 

"What do you mean?" Jisung sat on the edge of the bed and watched Minho's frantic movements. "What type of crazy?" Jisung knew Minho had a faulty track record because of his definition of crazy in high school, and silently feared Minho's spontaneous idea. 

The man smirked and jogged to their shared closet. Jisung followed Minho's body with hooded eyes, expecting the same present he received for his eighteenth birthday. But Minho didn't return with the familiar bottle and shiny silver packet, instead, his hands appeared empty.

Jisung rolled his burning eyes playfully and flopped back onto the bed, face trained towards the peeling paint on their ceiling. "Wow, how crazy," he remarked with sarcasm. "Look, Minho, I have school tomorrow, so if we're not gonna-" Jisung sat up on his elbows, and his tongue tied at the sight of Minho kneeling in front of him with a matte box in his hands. 

Minho flipped the lid of the small box gently and shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, I guess I could wait. I see you'd much rather get some sleep." Despite his nonchalance, Jisung could recognize his joking tone and pulled Minho back by his loose shirt. 

"Get your ass back here, Lee Minho," Jisung scolded, pushing Minho back onto his knees. The compromising position almost made Minho forget his original intentions, eyes roaming Jisung's beautiful body, but the weight in his hands interrupted his fantasies.

"Hi, baby." Minho greeted with a childish grin.

"Hi, Minho."

"Can I ask you a question?" Minho placed his hand on Jisung's upper thigh and held the box closer to Jisung's watery eyes. 

"Minho, if you do not propose to me within the next thirty seconds, I will let Felix come over and eat you," Jisung threatened him, wiggling his dead phone for added theatrics. Minho licked his lips dramatically. 

"Was that supposed to be a threat, because redheads are pretty cute."

Jisung huffed and turned his back to Minho, successfully destroying Minho's playful attitude. The brunette kissed Jisung's neck and placed the shining ring onto his crossed legs. He nosed softly along the underside of Jisung's jaw until he reached his pierced ears, nipping at the skin. 

"Marry me?" He whispered. Jisung shuddered from the feeling of Minho's minty breath fanning across his cheek, and nodded. The happiness spilled from his eyes gracefully as Minho removed the (clearly) expensive ring from its confinements and slipped it onto Jisung's finger. It was gorgeous sitting in the box, Minho thought, but seeing it on Jisung made it ethereal. 

"Minho, how long have you had this?" Jisung examined the sparkly gem under the lamplight in awe. 

Minho hummed in thought while he situated himself behind Jisung, one hand resting dangerously close to his thigh. "Almost four months, maybe?" 

"When were you planning on asking me?" Jisung couldn't contain his curiosity, knowing the timing had to have been premature.

"At your graduation." 

Jisung exhaled deeply. That meant Minho's reassurances had truly been his beliefs; he believed Jisung would receive a green dot and live years past his graduation. The realization, paired with his constant mood swings, became almost overwhelming. 

"This worked out, though. Now you can go to school tomorrow and brag about your amazing fiancee." Minho flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder and smiled proudly. 

"I love you more than anything," Jisung admitted. "And I can never repay you for everything you've done for me. I can't even begin to scratch the surface, but I can offer you one thing that no one else has."

Jisung leaned in and kissed Minho's parted lips eagerly. 

"Fuck me, Minho."

Minho didn't hesitate to flip their positions, trapping Jisung with his legs. 

"For the record," he panted between heated kisses, "you don't have to pay me back." 

Minho pulled off his shirt and groaned at the sensation of Jisung's hands on his bare torso. 

"But I'll be damned if I let this opportunity pass." 

| 2,737 : 10 : 01 |


	7. chapter 7; koda the cat

Jisung threw his book bag on the couch, his body following, and sighed dramatically. One week ago, he became engaged to his lovely and soon-to-be-dead boyfriend, and he was already craving another adrenaline rush. When Minho arrived back at their lonely apartment, he decided they would do something fun again. 

True to what Minho assumed the week prior, the teenagers at school were astounded by the ring and the vague details they received about the proposal. Jisung felt an overwhelming amount of pride when a classmate mentioned the expensive diamond and how lucky he was. The lock on the door clicked, and Jisung dove from the couch, sliding on the sleek flooring in his haste to welcome Minho. 

"Well, hello," Minho greeted. His playful yet confused smile made Jisung laugh softly. The duffle bag he previously held fell to the ground when he reached out to give Jisung a soft kiss. 

"Minho," Jisung whined, swinging their interlocked hands between their bodies.

"Jisung," Minho repeated. The mockery earned him an ungracious slap to the chest, but it was worth it.

"Can we do something fun today?" 

Minho disconnected their hands and kicked his bag further into the house, finally shutting the front door. 

"Fun or crazy?" Minho questioned with a devilish grin. 

Jisung hummed and jumped up on the countertop. Minho bustled about the kitchen, occasionally reaching over Jisung's head to carefully open the cabinets. 

"I was thinking more like, spontaneous?" Jisung swung his legs childishly. The sound of his feet banging against the cabinets drowned out by Minho's annoying blender as he prepared himself a protein shake. "Listen to me," Jisung groaned, kicking Minho in the back gently. 

"Spontaneous how?" Minho asked after he deemed his shake creamy enough for consumption. Jisung bit his lip as he thought, chewing the skin until it was raw and tasted like iron. 

"Oh! You're always talking about how you miss your cats." Minho raised an intrigued eyebrow, and Jisung knew he captured his attention. "Let's adopt a cat."

Minho sipped his shake and nodded. "Now that, mi amor, is an offer I cannot refuse." 

The car ride flew by effortlessly, between Minho's varying music tastes and Jisung's obnoxiously loud singing, and the bleak shelter building soon came into view. Jisung hated shelters more than school, more than plain hospitals and lonely houses. The walls were always stained and dirty, the cages looked like small jail cells, and the atmosphere was that of carelessness. The couple approached the reception desk to inquire about the location of the cats, and the lady looked up idly from her phone.

"Can I help you?" She asked with barely enough energy to classify her as cordial. Minho did not like her attitude, and Jisung knew full well his boyfriend would throw a hissy fit, so he quickly interjected.

"Cats, please?" Jisung smiled, and the lady diverted her bored expression to him. She pointed lazily to the hallway adjacent to her, and Jisung noticed her red dot, sympathizing with her immediately. Minho didn't appear to share in his empathy, and Jisung hastily dragged him away to avoid confrontation. Minho's annoyed scowl softened at the sight of the purring, sleeping, or staring cats. 

"Aw, they're so cute," Minho cooed, rushing over to poke his nimble fingers through the bars of the cage. The kitten ignored Minho, resuming her elegant grooming and making Minho whine. Jisung's opinion would become invalid to Minho, he knew, despite him being the one to suggest they adopt a new feline friend. Jisung followed behind his hyper boyfriend, who had made it his mission to softly boop every cat they passed. 

Minho found all of the sweet babies adorable, and it pained him to only be able to view them through metal bars. The process continued for approximately seven more cages, coo, boop, continue, until Minho found a beautiful Russian blue. The dainty cat met his resolute eyes with interest, and Minho recoiled. 

"This one," he demanded. "I want him." Minho sounded no different from a spoiled child, but Jisung couldn't ignore Minho's cute determined frown long enough to be annoyed. 

"Alright," Jisung agreed, holding his hands up in surrender. He waved over one of the employees scattered in between the rows of cages, and they rushed over. "Can we please hold this cat before my boyfriend throws a hissy fit?" Jisung threw a teasing grin in Minho's direction as he spoke. The employee nodded and unlocked the cage, collecting the bundle of black fur in his arms. He led them to a secluded room and beckoned them inside. Handing over the cat to a very eager Minho, he closed the door behind them. 

"Hi, baby." Minho pat the cat's head gently, being rewarded with a rough lick. "Would you like to come home with me and this dumbass?" The cat sat back on its haunches and stared into Minho's deep eyes; a silent cat yes, if Jisung had ever seen one.

"I want him, he's mine now." Minho scooped the cat into his tanned arms. The feline omitted a contented purr and snuggled further into Minho's embrace. 

After briefly conversing with the employee about how to properly care for a cat, the two exited the shelter with one destination in mind: PetSmart. Living off of minimum wage while being in school didn't leave them with a hefty amount of splurging money, but Minho dismissed his empty bank account in favor of color-coded bowls and cute collars. 

"What should we name him?" Jisung asked as he drove. One hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while the other played with the kittens soft tail. Minho halted Jisung's actions by intertwining their fingers and kissing his cheek. 

"Can we name him Koda?" Minho requested, looking to Jisung to gauge his reaction. 

"What does it mean?" Jisung flicked the blinker and turned into their apartment complex. 

"I'm gonna sound like such a loser," Minho chuckled, shaking his head. "You know how I used to play the cello?" 

Jisung nodded and put the car in park. 

"Well, there was this thing called the coda. It was like a semicolon almost; the music could have ended, but it's not over yet." 

Jisung laughed softly as he fetched the bags from the back seat. 

"That's cute. Now, what's the real reason?" 

"That is the real reason!" Minho argued mindlessly. Jisung hummed his disbelief and Minho relented. "Fine, it was somebody's name on TikTok and I thought it was cool." He huffed. 

Jisung laughed, loud and joyfully. 

"Koda the cat it is." 

| 1,843 : 28 : 06 |


	8. chapter 8; hurts

Jisung wasn't used to coming home after Minho, but his latest English assignment required some group time with the annoying people in his class. Nearly all of the lights in the house were off, except for Minho’s flashing phone: a call from Chan that didn't get answered. Minho, however, was nowhere to be seen. Jisung squinted in the dark to find his boyfriends silhouette, spotting his huddled body buried under the duvet usually hanging from the back of the couch.

“Minho?”

The lump groaned, and Jisug rushed over. He found Minho’s sweaty forehead in the pile of blankets and softly brushed his damps bangs away from his closed eyes. 

“What's wrong, Min?” He asked quietly. 

“Just don't feel so hot right now, Sungie. I'm pretty sure I overworked myself at dance class.” 

Jisung knew from previous experiences that this was not an overworked Minho. That Minho was much more irritable and clingy, demanding massages and food. Jisung accepted his boyfriend's lie with a simple hum.

“Are you sure?” Minho nodded against Jisung’s hand. “What's your temperature?” 

“I'm fine, my love, I promise.” Minho kissed his palm, and Jisung shuddered, feeling the unusually chapped skin. “Lay with me?”

Laying down with his feverish boyfriend was a one-way ticket to sickness, but staring at Minho’s sparkly eyes in the dark melted any of his complaints. He cuddled up to Minho’s shivering body, ignoring the perspiration, and closed his eyes. 

When he woke up two hours later, the lights were on and Minho was no longer curled around his body. Instead, Koda had made his way to the couch, nudging his furry body against Jisung’s outstretched hand. 

“Minho?” Jisung called out, patting Koda briefly and standing from the couch. He searched the kitchen and their bedroom, before hearing a heartbreaking sob echo in the bathroom. He rushed to the locked door and pounded on the wood, almost certain it would break under his fists any moment. “Open the door, Minho.” Jisung pleaded while still desperately wiggling the knob. The lock clicked and the door flew open.

Minho was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with tears dripping down his cheeks and snot gracing his upper lip. When he looked into Jisung’s eyes, his lips quivered and his body slumped against the tub. The vulnerability in Minho’s defeated frown was unexpected, and the realization that something was seriously wrong startled Jisung. 

Minho coughed into his hand, a sound similar to an asthmatic wheeze. “Jisung," Minho croaked. “I lied. Something is wrong.” 

“What happened?” Jisung peered over the edge of the toilet and almost gagged at the amount of throwup. What alarmed him more than the combustion, however, was the red scattered across the toilet seat. “Is that blood?” Jisung asked, glancing between Minho and the toilet with a horrified gasp.

“Hurts," Minho whimpered, rubbing his chest. “Can't breathe.” He inhaled shakily, throat constricting at the burn. His weak attempts at retaining what escaped his dying lungs made him extremely lightheaded. Bracing himself against the tub, he laid down on the floor. Jisung rushed over and cradled Minho’s head in his lap. 

“Minho, Minho!” He screamed. “Hey, babe, stay with me, okay? I'll call for someone to help.” Jisung grabbed his phone from his hoodie pocket with shaking hands, dialing 911. “My boyfriend needs help. He can't breathe!” Any composure Jisung previously had flew out of the window as the operator tried to calm him down enough to extract an address. The operator forced Jisung to stay on the phone until help arrived, but hung up when he hopped into the ambulance, hand never leaving Minho’s. The EMT’s rushed Minho onto a stretcher and into the OR, leaving a wailing Jisung to pace the waiting room. Three hours later, after the sun had welcomed the moon, the doctor called him to the back.

“Just be careful of the IV drip, alright?” The doctor warned him. Jisung nodded and sped to the room, resisting the urge to jump into his boyfriend's arms (and consequently rip out his IV). 

“Hey, Sungie.” Minho smiled guiltily and opened his arms, accepting Jisung’s gentle cuddles. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

“Don't care,” Jisung mumbled. The room was quiet, with the exception of Minho’s steady heart monitor. The sound was relaxing for Jisung, a reassurance that Minho was real and alive.

“I'm scared,” Jisung admitted quietly.

Minho cooed and kissed the top of Minho’s fluffy hair. “Of what, mi amor?”

“Losing you.” Jisung sat up, weight resting on Minho’s lean thighs. “What if this is it? What if this is where you die, where our story ends?”

Minho held Jisung’s hand and softly rubbed his thumb over the boy's knuckles. “Well, then I sure as hell won't die without a fight.”

Somebody knocked, and the door opened slowly. The doctor peeked her head in and smiled at the two politely. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but Jisung, may I speak with you outside?”

“Sure.” Jisung carefully climbed to the floor and kissed Minho’s pouty lips. “I'll be right back.” 

He followed the doctor into the hallway, mesmerized by the sway of her ponytail. She shut the door gently and gave her full attention to the teenager in front of her. 

“I'm so sorry Jisung. There's nothing we can do for him.” She broke the news gently; a mother soothing her frantic child. Regardless, the news devasted Jisung. She watched his hopeful smile crumble to ashes, as every other lovers had when they received the blow. It never got easier, as she had hoped. Her heart shriveled every time she watched hope die from her words. She knew what he would ask next, everyone always asked.

“Who can? Who do I have to talk too?” Jisung demanded. “I'll do anything.” And she knew he would; the fire in his eyes was a vengeful one. 

“I'm not sure it will help any, but maybe you could try talking to the Department of Colors. The head of the department makes the choices, and from what you've told me, he knows who Minho is.” She told him what she knew, bade him a pitiful goodbye, and took her news to another room, watched another person die with their love. 

Jisung sighed and wiped the tears from his eyes vigorously. Minho didn't have to know. Jisung would fix his mistake, switch it back. Jisung would die for Minho.

The door shut softly behind him as he curled up under Minho’s stubbly chin.

“What’d she say, Ji? Any updates?” 

“Nothing new, she just told me to get out of the pregnant patient's parking spot.” 

Jisung lied.

Minho laughed. 

It was devastatingly beautiful.

Whatever it takes. 

| 48 : 23 : 43 |


	9. chapter 9; sirens

The revolving doors felt trapping as Jisung rushed into the crowded Department of Colors. Minho fell asleep in the uncomfortable bed hours before, and Jisung seized his opportunity to escape and fix Minho’s mistake (Minho didn't think of what he did as a mistake, even when he heard the machine flatline). Jisung ducked under arms and crying women, nearly slamming into the reception desk.

“I need to speak to the head, immediately.” His words dripped with determination, but the receptionist was unfazed. She continued to mindlessly click on her keyboard, only glancing up momentarily to ask Jisung a simple question.

“I'm sorry, sir. Who are you, and do you have an appointment?” Her voice was monotonous and bored, not the least bit frazzled by Jisung’s wide eyes and heavy breathing. 

“No, I don't have an appointment, but I have a dying boyfriend and some things to say to your fucking boss,” he growled. His palm stung from how hard he gripped the edge of the desk. The lady sighed understandingly and nodded.

“Ah, I see. I'll call him now.” She dialed a number and picked up the ancient phone on her desk. She smiled reassuringly over at Jisung as it rang, wrinkles disappearing to reveal a beautiful teenage girl blessed with green. “Boss, we got another one. What's your boyfriend's name, sir?” 

“Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho, sir. Send him up? Alright.” She hung up and gestured to a burly man standing at the end of the hall. His arms were crossed over his broad muscles which made even Changbin look like a chihuahua. “Go ahead, sir. One of our security guards will escort you to his office.”

He mumbled a shaky “thanks”, and followed the security guard to the elevator. The weight in his pocket became heavier the longer he stood next to the terrifying man in the cramped elevator. Sweat beaded along his hairline, and he brushed it away inconspicuously. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, opening to reveal another long and dramatically lit hallway. Jisung trailed behind the security guard until the man stopped. He knocked gently on the door and opened it when he received confirmation from his boss. Jisung stepped into the middle of the small room, careful to avoid brushing against the burly man as he took his spot near the older gentlemen.

“Hello, Han Jisung, correct? Minho was quite the persuader when he swapped with you.” The senior chuckled, almost fondly, and Jisung’s previous hesitance faded into scorching anger at the mention of his lover. 

“Great, now switch it back,” he stated bluntly. The gentleman laughed, and Jisung felt the blood pounding in his veins. 

“Unfortunately, Jisung, all swaps are final. Look, I even have a cute little sign for it.” He pointed to a clearly handcrafted wooden sign hanging above his desk. Jisung wanted to smash it into pieces on the carpeted floor. How dare he make a joke out of Minho’s, anybody's, death. “You are not the first, and you will not be the last person to beg for me to spare their loved ones.”

Jisung slammed his hands on the metal desk, loving the way the senior flinched. The security guard eyed him wearily, but Jisung ignored his speculations. “I'll do anything to fix it, and that's the only warning I'll give you.” 

The head placed a heavy hand on Jisung's shoulder and sighed. “I apologize, Jisung, but even if you killed me, the switch is irreversible.”

Jisung pulled away and smiled. “Well, then this shouldn't be a big deal then, should it?” Jisung pulled the trigger on the loaded gun that he hid under his hoodie. The senior's dead body slumped to the floor at the bodyguard's feet and Jisung laughed. The gun was kicked from his shaking hands, and he was quickly apprehended by the security guard. Employees rushed in at the sound, footsteps followed by surprised gasps and shouts for help, all drowning under Jisung's triumphant laughter. 

He could faintly hear the deafening police sirens approaching the building, loud and awakening like Minho’s steady heart monitor.

The man woke up with a jump, his heart rate spiking momentarily. Jisung was no longer curled under his arm like a happy kitten, and the loss of warmth startled Minho. He searched the room as best he could from the bed, and when he noticed Jisung’s converse missing, he began to panic. He pushed the alarm on his bed, screaming for his doctor. She rushed in with a huff.

“Minho, what's wrong?” She frantically scanned over his vitals as she battered him with questions.

“Where's Jisung?” Just talking stung his raw throat and caused the irritation around his cherry lips to sting. His doctor deflated at the question, regaining her professional composure. 

“I'm sorry, Minho, I don't know where he is.”

Minho’s heart monitor went crazy. “I need him here, he has to be here.” His breathing was erratic, heart thudding so loudly he couldn't hear the doctor yell at him when he stood up and ripped the IV from his sore arms.

“Minho! Sit down, please. You need to lay back.”

Minho ignored her and dashed to the opened door. She desperately tried to grab onto his hospital gown, but years of dance gave him a speed advantage even when high off morphine. He could vaguely register her screaming for nurses, but the full implications of her words didn't kick in until he was pinned to the ground by a male nurse, wailing and crying out for Jisung. 

“No! I need my Sungie, where is he?” 

The nurses ignored his cries and grabbed him by his arms. The adrenaline rush wore off quickly, as well as his fight. He distinctly remembered kicking at the people gripping his arms and legs before the restraints snapped shut over his aching limbs.

Jisung decided quickly that he hated handcuffs. They dug into his wrists and rubbed against his skin like needles. But the worst part was when the officer grabbed him by the dangling chain and pulled him around like a ragdoll. Now that really stung.

The cool night air felt refreshing against the burn of the cuffs, but it brought with it a realization that sent Jisung to his knees. 

“Wait, please, I need to see Minho.” He resisted the officer's pull. "Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He pleaded, begging. His lips quivered and his eyes stung. “Just one more time please.” 

Jisung threw himself to the ground, much to the displeasure of the officers, brokenly wailing Minho’s name to the emotionless stars. Another pull and Jisung's body went numb in the officer's grasp. Minho’s name was imprinted on his tongue, the syllables sliding mindlessly past his lips.

“Sorry, kid.” The officer was far from sorry. “Murderers aren't allowed in hospitals.” 

He was shoved into the back of the cop car, head narrowly missing the top. The officers conversed swiftly with the employees before sitting in the front seat and starting the car. 

The sirens stopped, and the sound of a flatlining heart monitor echoed in Minho’s hospital room. 

| 0 : 0 : 0 |  
[ fin. ]


End file.
